Marco Potter: Fallen Angels Arc
by LordGalaxia2501
Summary: My first FF. Marco Potter has always been a loyal brother of Harry's. After the war with Voldemort, however, and both in positions of Aurors at the Ministry, things begin to change with a new rebellion...Rated M for violence, sexual references, and safety


A/N: Hello everyone and thank you for reading my fanfiction! I've been working with this character (Marco Potter) for a while; however only recently did I get up the courage to publish...yeah okay blahblahblah anyways, this story arc will follow Marco as he attempts to uncover Harry's plot, leading eventually to...? you'll have to see! So I don't know if anyone else does this, but whenever I write something (be it an original work, FF chapter etc.) I always think hmm...opening theme/ending theme? For those of you who are confused, I basically mean I always think of a song to play at the beginning and end of a chapter (for those of you into anime-that's where I got the idea from, with each episode having an intro song/animation; same idea for live action television although honestly most of those themes aren't as cool, imo. Except for Game of Thrones.) Well back to my point, this chapter's "opening theme" is the song "Lilium" by Kumiko Noma. It would make me happy if you went and listened to it as you read the chapter, but you don't have to. Also, the "ending theme" song is "Zetsubou Billy" by Maximum the Hormone. Hehe^^;

DISCLAIMER: ALL ORIGINAL CHARACTERS INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO HARRY, GINNY, HERMIONE, VOLDEMORT, SHACKLEBOLT, RON, JAMES/LILY (herein "canon characters" or "CC") ARE THE INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY OF J.K. ROWLING AND ASSOCIATES, and are NOT MINE! THE ONLY CHARACTER THAT BELONGS TO ME IS MARCO POTTER AND THEN ONLY BARELY! Furthermore, the World of Harry Potter (herein "World") also belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc. The "World" includes, but is not limited to: Hogwarts, Hogsmead, the Ministry of Magic, Azkaban, and neither you nor I have power over these. Oh wait, except for when I kill some off...Just kidding-maybe. Well enjoy the story; please R&R!

The lakeside was quite as water gently tickled the shore, and the house up on the hill was completely burnt-out, only a skeleton of the once-grand manor remained, and a few stray ashes drifted in the wind aimlessly. As the trees in the background swayed slightly, a sudden _pop _broke the dawn's silence, and a dark-haired figure with hazel eyes stood, taking in the scene grimly. Marco Potter, who looked somewhat similar to his brother except for his father's eyes and lack of glasses, took a deep breath as he confronted the ruin just ahead of him, and then stepped forward, walking up to the house.

When he got to the door—or what remained of it—he pulled out his wand, telling himself _just in case, _and proceeded to step over the ashen rug, a strange survivor of the destruction. The floor (or what remained of it) creaked underneath his feet, red-coloured robe swinging from side to side as he looked cautiously up a flight of stairs. Ascending it quickly, he was scoured the upper level: a long hallway stood almost by itself, all support and most surrounding walls stripped away, and only a door at the end of it still stood, torn open violently with magic. Taking a deep breath, he advanced with his wand pointed forward. Eyes darting back and forth and occasionally he glanced back, almost nervously save for his deliberate stepping and stern expression which masked most of the fear._ C'mon, what are you afraid of? _He asked himself as he pushed open the door with another loud _creak_.

The dead body was the first thing he saw. The corpse was laid open from the neck to pelvis, and its innards were strewn all over the remnants of a bed, blood covering the entire floor with a crimson tone. The man's face—he assumed it was a man, considering the beard and lack of head hair—was similarly disfigured, his eyes gorged out and bloody, and Marco suppressed a gag at the flies that crawled around those empty the foreboding sense he always had around the dead, Marco knelt beside the corpse and for the first time pocketed his sighed deeply. Shaking his head, he muttered to himself:

"Harry, Harry…what have you done?"

~;.;~~;.;~~;.;~~;.;~

Far, far away from the remote lake in the north, sitting at an elaborate desk, sat none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt, and he looked on passively at the darkly-robed wizard before him. The room was simply decorated, with none of the elaborate carvings or paintings of previous Ministers adorning the walls, save for a mirror and a portrait of an empty landscape, not unlike the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. Harry Potter, a rising Auror at the time, stood before him, having come on his hasty order. If he knew why the Minister himself had ordered him, he did not allow a trace of it to reveal itself on his features.

"Robards is dead." Harry gasped, and his eyes shot wide; Shacklebolt nodded grimly.

"How…?"

"We've sent your brother, Marco, to investigate." Harry shut his mouth and nodded. As head of Intelligence and Stealth, his brother was the prime man for such a job.

"Apparently he was on vacation, and then about a few weeks ago we lost all contact with him. Now, this presents us with several difficulties. Oh, please sit down," he added as the Minister realized he had started to ramble. Harry gracefully took a seat opposite the desk.

"Your brother is on-sight currently," Harry nodded, and the Minister went on, "we'll probably get his report by the end of the day. But, you're probably wondering why I've brought you here." Harry nodded, and put on a thoughtful frown, which made Shacklebolt smile slightly.

"Well, I'll come right out and say it: you're an outstanding Auror, Harry, and I need outstanding Aurors—especially ones I can trust, in these…times."

"Times, sir? Surely with Voldemort gone we're all safe—"

"Yes, safe from the head, but still, the body of the serpent remains very much intact. This recent attack is proof of that. Well, as I was saying, I need wizards I can trust on my staff. Potter, I'm offering Robard's position to you." He said when Harry still looked puzzled. A flash of shock, and then embarrassment crossed his face as he stammered:

"But, but sir—surely, someone else, more qualified…my brother, Marco, he's-"

"His department needs him more than I do." The minister stood up, clasping his hands.

"Besides, he's practically in the same position, isn't he?" The Department of Intelligence and Stealth operated differently from other Auror sub-offices in that it answered not to the head Auror but the Minister himself. It made internal investigations that much easier.

Harry cleared his throat and seemed to accept the promotion.

"I…I am honored, sir." The Minister chuckled.

"You've changed, Potter. Never used to call me 'sir'." He laughed as he told Harry to vacate his current office.

As Harry left the Minister's room and the door closed behind him, he allowed a small smile on his lips to appear.

"Well well, mister Minister, looks like your days are numbered." Chuckling to himself, a bounce entered his step as he walked down the long corridor to the elevator, where he cheerfully greeted a complete stranger who looked rather taken aback by his mood. _Just one step closer to victory, _he told himself as he descended to the second level.

~;.;~~;.;~~;.;~~;.;~

"I'm home," Marco shouted to no one in particular.

"Welcome back," the cool voice of Ginny Weasly Potter answered him. Then the voice of his brother made him grin even surrounded by the grim decorum of Number 12, Grimauld Place:

"Oi, what took you so long?" lumbering into the kitchen, he took in the small scene of Ginny and Harry sitting at the table, bowls of soup half-empty with two brown-and-orange tea mugs floating in midair above them. Marco still smiled an apology as he sat down at his seat opposite the two, drinking in the delicious scent of Ginny's tomato soup.

"You make the best soup, Ginny."

"Well. It was _your _turn to cook tonight." They glared at him a second, before bursting into a fit of giggles. _Married people are weird, _Marco decided.

"You two drunk?" they shook their heads no, and there was silence for a time.

"Harry's been-" Ginny started just when Harry said, "I've been-" Marco looked up at them from his bowl, puzzled.

"What?" He asked when neither of them seemed forthcoming.

"Er, I've been promoted." Surprise lit up Marco's face, and he quickly concealed a second feeling—not quite jealousy, but something highly akin to it.

"Con-congratulations." He managed to say, before diving once more into the soup. He had not realized how hungry he was, he decided.

"Really, 'ats great." Ginny beamed and Harry nodded.

"I was a bit surprised, though, when Shacklebolt told me-" _were you now? _Marco hid his feelings from the outer world; he had never been interested enough in Legilimency to pursue the ability, but at times like these he wished he knew what Harry was really thinking. But, they were brothers and twins at that and while he might fool his wife, Harry Potter could not fool one who had known him his entire life.

And Harry had not been himself as of late, Marco had noticed. He had been writing, for one thing, on the weekends, to nearly hundreds of people locked in his room, and even his wife didn't know who he was corresponding with. And it seemed like he barely got any sleep; more than once Marco had discovered him coming home at a very late hour—not that Marco suspected there was anyone but Ginny he was seeing, (Harry was completely loyal to her) but something…different. _It's like when we were fifteen, _Marco thought. _Only—_

"Well, we're off to bed." Marco nodded and said he'd clean up the kitchen; Ginny responded by saying she didn't expect anything less. He forced a smile out and finished the soup, then sat there alone in thought for a few minutes.

He had done the dishes, and the table and everything was clean when suddenly he heard footsteps descending the stairs.

"Who's there?" he called softly, and a moment later Ginny's red head appeared in the kitchen, looking rushed as she made a _shush_ing noise at him. Marco frowned, and then followed her to the main hall.

"Ginny, what-"

"It's about Harry," she said and his body stiffened.

"What about…?"

"We both know he's been writing Rowling-knows-how-many letters a night right? Well one day I thought, you know, just in case, what if he was seeing…I mean, this was all speculation and all, and I'm sure—I _was _sure, and now I'm positive—Harry would never see another woman. So anyway, the other night I thought, _well Ginny why don't we take a look at whatever it is Harry's been writing?_ It wasn't that hard, intercepting the owl and all, what with security being down since the war…and I was absolutely relieved he wasn't writing his mistress or anything, not that I thought he was as you know I'm sure. _But, _what I read I thought was rather interesting, so I made a copy—with magic of course!—which I want you to read. Not here," she added as she withdrew he outstretched hand with the parchment on it, "when you're at the office, tomorrow, read it. Then I thought we could meet up and talk about it—Harry's busy at lunch I'm sure, what with the promotion and all, but are you free?" Marco managed to get in a nod. Her whole speech had a very Hermione-ish feel to it, what with the speed and red cheeks.

"Okay good. I really want to know what's going on in that letter, and there are hundreds more we haven't read…"

"Right, Ginny." They agreed to meet at a Muggle café not too far from the ministry, and then she ascended the step. Marco soon followed, the parchment tucked into the back of his pants, which he hid inside the drawer of his bedroom's desk, a floor below Harry and Ginny's.

Finally, exhausted yet oddly filled with energy and curiosity, Marco flopped onto his bed, not bothering to undress or get under the covers. As he fell asleep he did not even consider how Harry might take the secret meeting with his wife the next day if he found out.

~;.;~~;.;~~;.;~~;.;~

_September 18__th_

_ Dear Mr. Gillian_

_Potter here, just responding re our previous correspondence. AND I AGREE WITH YOU TOTALLY! Sorry for the caps, but the points you made in your letter completely make sense to me—you, sir, should write to the Prophet. In fact I had considered sending your letter to them briefly, but that is your duty not mine, and so I declined. Anyway, back to the response…for too long have Muggle-borns, so-called "half bloods" and the like been persecuted; this is true. This is the reason we fought Voldemort back then, and the reason we at the Ministry are working day and night to hunt down and destroy the rest of the snake._

_And while I agree with you that wizards/witches who perpetrate crimes against Muggle-borns and half-bloods should be treated as less than animals, I for one would go farther to suggest that it is not the fault of merely individual, unbalanced dark magicians, but rather that we live in a time when violence against Muggle-borns is at an all-time high, not just from known criminals but "every day" "purebloods" (even writing that word makes me cringe—what is the thought behind calling one's blood 'pure'?); the point I am trying to make is that it seems to me—and I know a fair amount of people who agree with me—that it is the fault of _all purebloods _that Muggle-borns are persecuted, and this needs to STOP._

_There is a group of activists in Britain, I'm sure you've heard, who call themselves the Children of Dawn, campaigning for extended rights for Muggle-borns, including protection for their families as well as pushing several laws (which the power-hungry purebloods at the Ministry have of course shot down as "unconstitutional"—doesn't it seem like a lot of things go conveniently unpunished whenever purebloods are the perpetrators?); however the fight is far from over. In fact if you're interested I can give you the contact information of the head of the Children, a bloke named Ralph Horner, a Muggle-born whose wife and kids were killed by the purebloods in the war._

_ Best regards, and hope to hear back from you soon,_

_ Harry James Potter_

Marco stared at the parchment for a second, having re-read the letter several times before. The last line still made him pause for breath: _Ralph Horner, a man whose wife and kids were killed by the purebloods in war…a man whose wife and kids were killed by the purebloods in the war…killed by the purebloods…_not Death Eaters, purebloods. The words had first struck him like a hammer in the chest, and he stopped breathing for a moment. He shook his head slowly, eyes blurred over as if the words were imprinted onto the very eyeball's tissue.

_Best…best talk it over with Ginny, _he thought, finally folding the letter up and shoving it to the back of his desk, a disturbed look on his face. Then he slumped in his chair, staring blankly at the pile of paperwork on his desk. Marco wasn't really that surprised, he reasoned, considering he had suspected Harry had been up to some plot all along—what with these letters, the ex-head-Auror conveniently dying, and him being promoted. Marco had suspected for a while, but this letter slammed home the message: Harry Potter was plotting a rebellion. That and he had supporters. He knew the vast majority of people were still dissatisfied with the Ministry's efforts at re-building the world and righting the wrongs of the past; Marco himself wasn't really happy either, but this…_this goes too far, _he decided. One could not blame the majority of a group for the minority's misdeeds. Marco thought Harry was initially pretty stupid to support that kind of movement—_he's a pureblood too!—_but then, it made sense in a sick way. Harry Potter had grown up being abused by those in power. Be it his aunt or uncle, teachers at school, the Ministry at various times, dark witches and wizards killing those he loved (and himself at one point). Naturally such a person was prone to be angry, to want revenge. But a part of Marco still resisted—_he's my brother; he'd never do that kind of thing. You _know _Harry, _Marco told himself. But even that voice of doubt had a major problem in refuting the evidence placed before Marco's eyes: _he arranged Robards' death—_Rowling forbid he actually did the killing!—_then was suddenly promoted…and the letters…_

Marco stood up, looking at the clock. It was an hour till noon, and he had a lot of paperwork to fill out. He thought ruefully of the days in school when he had thought as an Auror he'd never have to fill out a stupid bit of paper again. _Shows what you knew, _he thought, and the joke slightly lightened his mood.

Marco worked for the remainder of the hour and then, telling one of the officers on duty to watch the office for him, joined the lunch-going crowd ascending the lifts to the main floor. When he finally reached a fire-grate and shot up the exit-toilets of the Ministry, he saw Ginny waiting outside dressed as a Muggle with plain jeans and a V-neck (Marco had simply worn jeans and a regular shirt). He waved and they walked out together, crossing the street silently.

When they finally sat at the café and waited for someone to take their order, they spoke, keeping their voices low:

"…so, what'd you think?"

"I think I need to talk to him." Ginny stared, and then nodded slowly.

"As of now, we can't exactly _attack _him for anything—he hasn't done anything wrong,"

"Other than plot a rebellion."

"What?" Marco hesitated. He had not told anyone of his suspicion—no, he _knew_—of Harry's involvement with the old head's death.

"Ginny…don't you think it's odd how Harry was promoted so…casually?"

"Of course he was promoted! He deserved it!" Marco inwardly grimaced; Ginny was only willing to be disloyal to Harry to a certain degree, it seemed.

"I'm not denying that he didn't deserve it. Only, with the timing of these letters…the Children of Dawn I reckon he's a part of…doesn't it seem…convenient?" Ginny opened her mouth, and then frowned.

"What should we do?"

"I'll talk to him in a week. It's the best I can do. Meanwhile…I know this might be hard, and I want you to refuse, but…could you possibly keep an eye on him? I mean, you're his wife and all-"

"You mean _spy _on him!" Marco _shushed _her when several people looked around at her cry, and tried to adopt a more appeasing smile.

"Ginny…I just want to know what he's doing, that's all. It could come to nothing; let's pray we're both overreacting. But, don't you reckon, just in case…" she stared, stony-faced at him, then turned away to look out the window.

It was a full minute before she nodded.

"All right. I'll do it. but I'm not going to report on his _every _action. What do you want to know?" from her tone, it seemed as if…

"Well I don't want to know how he's performing in bed," Marco laughed at her expression, "just when he writes these letters; try to find out how many he's sending and receiving a day, you know…intel stuff."

"Isn't that your department?"

"Ginny, you're close to him. He…trusts you." Marco turned away from her questioning eyes. She lowered her voice, coloring its tone with the honey of concern:

"And not you?" Marco shook his head.

"Course he does. I'm his brother." But Marco knew the truth: Harry, who had always trusted him, told him everything during those long isolating years with the Durselys, even cried on his shoulder occasionally…no longer sought his own brother's opinion, not even of the weather. _We've grown…distant…_Marco forced a smile when the waitress came, ordering himself a simple sandwich and a drink. He looked out the window, the sun shining down at the crowd of pedestrians, all those Muggles who knew naught of the world just underneath their noses…

_Harry, _he thought, _what have you done?_


End file.
